


The World Wants to Break Your Stride

by Adventurousmind



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, they really just deserve so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventurousmind/pseuds/Adventurousmind
Summary: Charles Hoyt may have changed Jane's life forever, but so has Maura, and that is so, so much more important. Jane has a setback when a lighthearted moment with her family triggers a flashback, but Maura is there to help, every step of the way, just like always.
Relationships: Maura Isles & Jane Rizzoli, Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	The World Wants to Break Your Stride

**Author's Note:**

> I'm coming into this fandom very late, but very eager. This work deals with triggers and flashbacks due to Post-Traumatic stress, but nothing graphic. If you're worried it may be triggering for you, don't read and take care of yourself!  
> Title and lyrics are from "I'll Be There" by The Overcoats.

The world wants to break your stride  
But you are worth every star in the sky  
If you can't find a reason why  
I'm by your side

Everything had been going so well. It was a usual Rizzoli Sunday afternoon at Maura’s. Jane had been over since breakfast after their morning run and spent the rest of the morning pestering Maura about going with her to watch a Red Sox game at some sports bar later that week while they TJ-proofed the living room.  
All of Maura’s fancy, expensive things they moved off the tables and into secure cabinets. The sharp-cornered coffee table they moved into the study so there was room on the floor for TJ to play. TJ was past the choking hazard stage, thankfully, but Maura and Jane still put all the small, fiddly things into containers to prevent anything from getting lost. They swapped out the hand-dyed and -knotted wool rug for an acrylic play mat. And finally, they wrapped the couch in a liquid-resistant cover.

“There,” Jane announced. “Safe from my brothers.”

Maura snorted. “What is it that you do when you spill on the couch?”

Jane grumbled before sticking her tongue out at her friend. “But not on your couch,” she insisted.

Maura rolled her eyes, but gave Jane a quick squeeze on the forearm instead of continuing to bicker.

Tommy and TJ were the next to arrive, barreling through the door minutes after Maura finally convinced Jane to help her chop vegetables for dinner. Maura smothered a groan as Jane immediately abandoned her task in favor of greeting her nephew.

“Jane,” Maura chided when Jane dropped her knife on the counter with a clatter and bounded toward the door.

Jane paused to grin back at Maura, unapologetic.

Maura unapologetically nailed her in the forehead with a chunk of carrot. Or would have, if Jane hadn’t opened her mouth and caught it instead.

Jane winked before continuing on her flight to the door. Maura sighed. At least Jane ate a vegetable.

“Auntie Jane!” TJ cried out as the woman in question scooped him off his feet and spun the two of them around.

Maura watched anxiously at Jane’s fuzzy-sock clad feet on the hard floor, waiting for the crash and fall, the bruised elbows and heads, and sighed in relief when TJ’s feet were firmly planted on the floor again.

“Hey, Janie,” Tommy said, leaning over to kiss his sister on the side of the head.

“Hey, punk.”

Tommy ignored her and headed into the kitchen. “Hey, Maura.”

“Hello, Tommy. I’m glad you could make it.”

“I don’t even wanna know what Ma would do if I didn’t show. I mean, she’s pretty gung-ho about the grandkid thing and I figured Janie having to arrest Ma for murder would put more of a damper on things than me showing up.”

“You being here is not a damper,” Maura said firmly, “it’s a joy to have you in my—" she cut off as she turned and caught his eye. He had the same, mischievous glint and crooked grin that Jane did when she was teasing Maura. “Oh.”

“Nah, go ahead, fan my ego some more.”

“Please don’t,” Jane said. “If his head gets any bigger there will be no room in your massive house for the rest of us.” She flicked Tommy lightly on the temple.

Maura smiled, content to watch the easy camaraderie between the siblings as they circled through the kitchen and back to the living room where their focus easily shifted to TJ. Keeping an ear on the pack of Rizzolis, Maura turned back to her prep. Angela would be over soon to help with the cooking, but Maura liked doing her mise en place before the older woman was there.

“Get her!” Tommy said, as TJ shrieked with laughter.

Maura looked up in time to see the tickle fight turn on Jane. TJ launched himself at his aunt and she lost her balance from her crouch, tipping backward—slowly, still in control—until she laid on the floor. Laughing, Jane fought back, one hand on TJ’s side as he perched on her stomach and one reaching out for Tommy. Tommy dodged the attack, and, using his higher ground, captured her wrists and bore them to the ground above Jane’s head.

Maura was a second too late to react and Jane stiffened under the oblivious actions of her relatives.

“Stop.” Maura’s voice, shot through with an emotion even she couldn’t identify, cut the boys short.

They froze and looked at Maura, but Maura could only see Jane.

“Tommy, take TJ into the other room,” Maura said, her voice hard and hollow as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

Tommy hesitated, looking down at his sister, where Maura’s attention was so clearly focused. But Jane—Jane looked through Tommy, her eyes, wide and glassy, were focused on something distant. Her breathing was shallow, and despite the roughhousing she’d just been doing, she shivered.

“Now,” Maura said, still in that hard voice. She headed toward Jane.

Tommy wasted no more time obeying. He swept up his son and carried him out of the room and Maura promptly put them out of her mind. All that mattered was Jane. Jane in the middle of a flashback.

Maura knelt beside her friend. “Jane, Jane can you hear me?”

Through chattering teeth, Jane said, “Maur?”

“Yes, Jane, it’s me. I’m here.”

“N-no. Get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to r-run. It’s not s-safe.”

“Jane, you’re at my house. I’m safe. You’re safe.”

“I can’t, I can’t let him hurt you.”

A tear ran down Maura’s cheek, unheeded. “You didn’t Jane. You stopped him. He’s dead, remember?”

“He’s coming back. He always comes back.”

“Not from this, Jane. Charles Hoyt is dead. You killed him, and I examined the body. He’s gone.”

Jane just shivered, wide-eyed and uncannily stiff.

“Say it, Jane. Say ‘Charles Hoyt is dead,’” Maura begged.

“Ch-charles Hoyt is dead,” Jane whispered.

“And he’s not coming back.”

“And he’s not coming back.” Jane’s eyes slammed shut.

“Jane, I’m going to turn on the heater now, okay? I’m not leaving.”

Jane licked dry lips. “Okay.”

Maura pulled a space heater from under an end table and positioned it next to Jane. It was a radiant heater, so it was soundless when she turned it on.

“Jane, I want you to move your right hand,” Maura said gently.

“Can’t,” was the instant reply.

“Yes, you can. There’s nothing there holding it.”

“No. Hurts. Can’t.”

“Jane, who am I?”

It took a few long, terrifying seconds for Jane to respond. “Maura.”

“Yes. Would I lie to you?”

“You can’t,” Jane gasped, the ghost of a smile flickering over her face.

“I can’t,” Maura agreed. “And would I ever do something to hurt you?”

“No,” the emphatic reply was so immediate that Maura’s eyes, already welled with tears overflowed.

“Then, for me, I want you to move your right hand. Okay? It won’t hurt, I promise.” Maura watched as Jane carefully extended then flexed the fingers of her right 

hand. Then, ever so slowly, she pulled it down to her body.

“Good job, Jane, that was perfect. Can you try your left?” The left hand, Maura knew, was harder. Jane was less willing to take chances with her dominant hand.

The fingers twitched. “Maura?”

“Yes, Jane?”

“You promise?” It was heartbreakingly, gut-wrenchingly, plaintive.

“I promise, Jane.”

Biting her lip, Jane complied, carefully drawing her left hand back to herself. Still moving as though swimming through gelatin, she crossed her arms, hugging her own shoulders. The shivering eased and the tension holding her body ramrod straight faded.

Maura breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Jane, can you tell me one thing that you smell?”

Jane took a slow deep breath. “Your perfume.”

“Good. I’m right beside you. Three things you can feel?”

“This itchy-ass rug.”

“Jane,” Maura murmured, much more relieved and amused than upset about the language.

“Hot air.”

“I turned on the heater.”

“Mmm. Fuzzy socks.”

“Yes. Now, open your eyes and tell me five things you can see.”

Jane drew one hissing breath before she forced her eyes open. “Your incredibly unnecessary crown molding. The Rizzoli-proof couch cover. The heater. That ridiculous pouf thing. And you.”

Finally, finally Jane met Maura’s eyes and Maura gave her a wobbly smile. “And me,” she agreed.

Jane reached out one trembling hand and Maura took it between both of hers, chafing it gently.

“Would you like the blanket now?” Maura asked.

Jane nodded. Maura gave her hand a final squeeze before standing to get a weighted blanket from the storage ottoman. Jane pushed herself up, turning so she could sag against the couch, knees drawn up almost to her chest.

“Lean forward,” Maura said softly, wrapping the blanket around Jane’s shoulders when she complied. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Jane said, her usually husky voice ragged.

Maura sat next to Jane and wrapped her arms around her lanky friend. Jane curled into her, tucking her head into the hollow of Maura’s shoulder and letting her bony knees fall against Maura’s outstretched legs. Maura slowly stroked Jane’s back. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“Safe,” Jane agreed, and with the admission, the flood gates opened.

Jane cried quiet heaving sobs into Maura’s shoulder, letting go of all the terror bottled up in her body. Maura murmured nonsense into Jane’s hair while continuing to slowly stroke Jane’s back, her other arm tight around her friend’s waist. Eventually, Jane’s breathing evened out and she plummeted straight into exhausted slumber.

Maura closed her eyes, taking a quiet moment to gather herself. She pressed a long kiss to the top of Jane’s head before carefully extricating herself from the tangle of bony limbs. Thanking her own foresight to keep a tough workout regimen, Maura slid one arm under Jane’s knees and one behind her back and lifted. Fortunately, she didn’t have to get Jane very far and her strength was enough to get her friend the few feet from floor to couch. Maura tucked the weighted blanket around Jane and left her to sleep on the couch, ready to do her own crying and thankful that Jane wasn’t awake to see that.

  


Angela was in the kitchen. That stopped Maura in her tracks. She hadn’t heard the older woman enter the house and had no idea how much she had seen.  
Enough, clearly, from the tear tracks on her face and the way she slumped against the counter.

“Angela?” Maura said softly.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Angela flapped a hand at her.

“Angela, I don’t like to—”

“I know, I know, but I do. Humor me for just a minute.”

Maura hid her sigh and her discomfort and hugged Angela.

Angela held her tight and Maura uncertainly rested her hands on the other woman’s scapulae.

“Thank you,” Angela said, a hoarse whisper at Maura’s ear, “for taking care of my baby. That was scarier than seeing her in the hospital and you just took care of her. Thank you for loving her so much.”

“I—of course,” Maura said, still a little unsettled in the embrace.

“Tommy brought TJ over, said something happened with Janie and that you were taking care of her and not to interrupt, so I didn’t but I needed to see that you both were okay.”

Well, that explained the quiet entry.

“Okay, I’m going to let you go now. Thank you for humoring me.”

Maura smiled weakly at her as she pulled back. “I need to go sit in the chair, now. Where Jane can see me when she wakes up.”

“You’ve done this a lot, huh?”

Maura hesitated, knowing this was a line Jane didn’t want to cross with her mother.

“And she asked you not to tell me.”

How did she do that? Maura sighed. Angela would keep asking, and maybe if she answered, Angela wouldn’t ask Jane and Jane wouldn’t have to talk about it. “This is the first bad one in a long time. It’s mostly nightmares, and even those have gotten a lot better.”

The nightmares had been a process. There were weeks when Maura woke to Jane slipping into her house or her bed nearly every night. Now it was only a couple times a month. Not that Angela needed to know that.

“My poor baby.” Angela headed toward the couch and had one hand outstretched before Maura caught her by the wrist.

“Don’t,” Maura said quietly, “She’s deeply asleep, but sensitive to touch, I don’t want to trigger a nightmare.”

Angela nodded, looking distinctly choked up again.

Maura refrained from adding that Angela probably could touch Jane—if she went and put on some of Maura’s perfume first. That had been a difficult variable to isolate. In the early days, Maura found that sometimes she could touch a sleeping Jane without issue, and sometimes it caused profound distress. Eventually she narrowed down the cause to olfactory input. If Maura wore her perfume or her lotion, Jane’s subconscious allowed her presence. Without it, she was a stranger.

“I think we should cancel this evening’s gathering. Or move it to the guesthouse,” Maura said. “It’s likely that Jane will sleep for some time. These episodes are very exhausting.”

Angela nodded. “Okay, honey. Take care of yourself tonight, too. I’ll be over to check on you both in the morning.”

With a wan smile, Maura thanked her. It was a relief to be alone again. Maura gathered her supplies (her favorite novel, a cup of tea, and a box of tissues) before curling up in the chair opposite the couch.

As hard as it was to watch Jane go through her terrors, Maura always considered it a gift that Jane was willing to be vulnerable around her. That Jane allowed Maura to take care of her in the aftermath. She’d known it from the moment Jane showed up at her house for the first time, when Charles Hoyt broke out of prison, and Jane admitted to Maura, without prompting, that she was scared.

With Maura, Jane didn’t have to put up the hard, cocky attitude that she used on the guys at the station to convince them that she was just as capable. With Maura, Jane didn’t have to hold her invincible, stoic façade she used on her family to keep them from worrying over and harassing her. With Maura, Jane could just be Jane—with the full range of emotions and strengths and weaknesses of any human being. And with Jane—with Jane, Maura felt, for the first time, like a full human being. Despite Jane’s teasing when Maura said something weird, or didn’t understand a sarcastic comment, Maura was safe with Jane. She was always loved, always supported.

And for that, Maura would spend as much time as needed curled in her armchair, watching over Jane as she slept off a panic attack or a flashback or a nightmare. 

If you break down and cry  
I will stay through the night  
Don't you know that we'll both be alright

I will be there  
I will be there  
I will be there, don't you be scared, I will be there  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm sure I've bungled something about PTSD in here, I'll admit I didn't do any research for it. If you or someone you know is or may be dealing with PTSD or has gone through trauma and would like to prevent the onset of PTSD, please, please find a doctor who specializes in trauma care. You are loved, you are supported, you can do this.
> 
> I have other plot bunnies for this fandom, so while I won't be expanding this work, I will probably be posting other stories soon.


End file.
